


Myfanwy

by Fabrisse



Series: Other Ranks [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Gen, Lady of the Lake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5666959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Myfanwy Rhys became one of the Three Witches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sixties

Her father had volunteered the day war was declared and proposed to her mother the same day. He never left Caernarfon; Evan Rhys’ entire war was spent at RAF Llandwrog as a mechanic. Her mother joined the WRAF and flew transport planes for three years. 

Her older sister Glenys was born in 1943.

Myfanwy joined the family in 1945 on Victory Day.

***   
Just before she was due to sit exams for her degree in Economics and Politics, she was called into her tutor’s office. Along with five other students, she was informed that Professor Gower was a spotter for the Ministry of Defence and they’d all been recommended for interview and examination. Two people left the room, after signing the Official Secrets Act so that they couldn’t give Professor Gower away, and the rest, Myfanwy included, were given a date for the exam and a date for an interview should they pass.

She found out that she had been accepted as a researcher at the MoD (and later discovered her area technically didn’t exist) and that she’d achieved her B.A. on the same day. She began working at MI-6 as a file clerk cum secretary cum researcher immediately after the summer bank holiday.

A group of the girls who started at the same time she did rented a house together on Hamilton Gardens not far from Lord’s Cricket Ground in St. John’s Wood. It was convenient to the Bakerloo line which took them straight into Whitehall every day. 

London in 1966 was one of the leaders of youth culture and fashion. Paris and New York had stultified, but London reinvented itself with the British Invasion in music and Carnaby Street, Mary Quant, and Vidal Sassoon in fashion. Eye makeup was more extreme, hair and skirts were shorter, and everyone danced in the discotheques.

In short, life as a single woman in the most happening city in the world was great. Her job, however, was stultifying. The two men who’d been with her in Professor Gower’s little meeting began as analysts, with one of them already having been sent to learn Czech. She and the other woman in the meeting were pushing trolleys with files in them and having to slap the wandering hands of much older men every ten minutes or so. Rebecca didn’t mind the wandering hands as much and it wasn’t unusual for Myfanwy to see one of their mid-level bosses over the breakfast table in the morning. 

Her biggest battle was to find ways to make time for herself. She’d finally established with her immediate supervisor that she’d take half hour lunches instead of the hour they were allotted, if she could leave early one day a week. Those afternoons were spent at West End matinees, movies none of her friends wanted to see, museums, and galleries.

She wandered into the Indica gallery in Mason’s Yard one day and found herself entranced by the works of a Japanese artist. It wasn’t that she liked most of it; Myfanwy wasn’t entirely certain she understood it. But all white chess pieces seemed to be about right for the type of obscure war her department seemed to be fighting with the Russians. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/yokoonoofficial/2892798380/in/album-72157607541504677/)

“What do you see, looking at it?” The man next to her seemed genuinely curious.

“Futility. It doesn’t matter what game we think we’re playing. We can’t win.”

He nodded. “I get that.” His smile got a bit broader. “I look at it a bit different. No matter which side we’re on, we always think we’re pure.”

It was her turn to nod. “That makes sense.”

“Welsh?”

“Me? I’m Welsh as laverbread. Myfanwy.”

“Paul.” They shook hands and he continued, “I thought you’d be safe to talk to. I see you around the neighborhood on your way to the tube stop with a lot of other girls.”

“Much nicer than I could afford on my own. Though, I must say, I don’t remember your friend setting fire to the house after sleeping in the bathtub. That was a rude surprise.”

“Ah. He never told me exactly where that was. The fire was my idea.”

Myfanwy chuckled quietly. 

“Fancy a cup of tea? There’s a caf just down the street.”

“Let me just look at the last piece.” She glanced toward a ladder.

“There’s a magnifying glass at the top,” he said.

She climbed up, thankful for the thick tights she was wearing under her skirt as Paul insisted on bracing the ladder for her. On the ceiling In tiny type was printed the word “yes.” Myfanwy grinned and let Paul buy her tea and a scone.

***   
The next two years found Myfanwy trying to move beyond her roving file cart and into one of the regular departments. She applied for research, analysis, and logistics positions, but the jobs all seemed to go to men. She even overheard the head of department say that he didn’t know why she kept applying since they weren’t going to promote anyone who would leave the second she found a man to marry.

Paul ran into her outside the Tube station and took her out for Indian. “Look, I know it’s not your type of work, but I think my tailors could use someone.”

“A woman in a tailor’s shop? I’m not sure that would go over too well.”

“At least let me talk to someone I know there. He might have some advice.”

Since Paul couldn’t know what she did beyond “file clerk,” she figured it wouldn’t hurt to see if there might be a life outside of the intelligence community. “Sure, Paul. Tell him my short day this week is Wednesday, but I can arrange for it to be any day he finds convenient next week.”

“I will. Want to come home with me, luv?”

She grinned; it was an old joke between them. “No, thank you, _cariad_ , but the offer’s appreciated.”

“And can I give Mister Lee your phone number?”

“That would be fine.”

Paul paid the bill and said, “Let me walk you home.”

***   
She wore her best suit for tea at the Dorchester. Mister Lee turned out to be a very tall man with a very deep voice whom she thought she recognized from a movie Rebecca and Rebecca’s latest man had dragged her to ages ago. She noticed that he was assessing her just as thoroughly, and they smiled nearly simultaneously.

“Don’t worry about being overheard, my dear. The maitre knows not to put anyone too close to us.” He helped her to her chair and she noted that their table had a perfect view of the entire room, including all the standard and non-standard entrances and exits. 

She looked back at her companion to find Mister Lee smiling. “Yes, my dear, the tailor’s shop is just a cover.”

“Does Paul know?”

“I believe so. He’s certainly been willing to help with some minor courier duties.”

Myfanwy thought for a moment, but before she could ask anything more, Mister Lee asked, “Is the standard tea all right or are you a vegetarian?”

“Yes, the standard tea is fine.” There was a pause. “Tell me about your shop.”

Mister Lee leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Kingsman is one of the rare shops which has been in continuous existence since the mid-nineteenth century. There are one or two Savile Row shops which can claim precedence, but all of them have had periods where they closed whether due to lack of funds or lack of appropriate skilled workers.”

“And what role would you see for me at your shop? It’s not like they’d let me take measurements, and, frankly, I’m tired of being one step above the tea lady in an office hierarchy.”

“It would have driven me mad. You took a first class degree from the LSE. Why George has you pushing around a file cart is beyond me?”

Myfanwy stiffened at the use of the name George. It was common enough, but it was also the first name of the head of her government agency.

Their tea arrived, and Lee said, “Let me be mother, please. I hope you like the blend. They keep it for me.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Once he’d ascertained that she approved of the tea and they’d begun on the salmon sandwiches, he raised an eyebrow.

She said, “Yes, well, what is Kingsman besides a tailor’s shop?”

Mister Lee said, “A better question, though I’ll answer your earlier one as well. Kingsman is an independent intelligence service. We are beholden to no government, though we are aware that the Ministry of Defence and their American cousins give us the leeway they do because we’re useful to them.”

“You provide plausible deniability, I imagine.”

“Some, but frankly, they use us when they need to clean house. Sometimes, we help with ensuring there’s no need for a prisoner exchange as well.”

Myfanwy was silent for a moment. “Because you’ve rescued the prisoner or because you’ve killed him?”

“We’ve done both, my dear. Surely you don’t believe MI6 has never ordered one of our own killed.”

“No. I wish I could believe it, but… there was an incident in Berlin.” She could mention it because it had made all the major newspapers.

“There are many. But I know the incident to which you’re referring. I firmly believe we would have handled it better, at least gotten the civilian girl out if not the operative.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“If you’re already tired of the game, we can use you as a buyer for the shop, give you a chance to travel the world and regroup while you decide what you really wish to do, but I think you’ll enjoy what we’re offering you more than that type of role.”

“And what are you offering me?”

Mister Lee grinned. “Travel will still be part of it, but your role will be in support of our agents. I know you probably want to do analysis, and I’ll start you there if you like. When it bores you, come tell me so, and I’ll put you into logistics. I’ve seen your scores, aptitude as well as university, they show you have a positive talent for logistics at all levels.”

“You’re right that I want to try analysis. I think I’ll be good at it.”

“I have no doubt of it, Miss Rhys.” He leaned closer and said in her ear, “It will bore you to tears.”

She giggled, which was completely unlike her and he laughed at having made her do so. 

“Once you’ve been with us a few months, we may ask you for recommendations about other bored girls pushing file trolleys. I will say, not Rebecca.”

Myfanwy glanced at him sharply.

“I’m certain she’s lovely, but, fundamentally, she’s not a serious person. Serious as the French use the word, you understand.”

She thought for a moment. “You’re right. To her, I’ll have to be a “buyer for the shop,” was it?”

“And you will be. As I said, you’ll travel. You will learn the basics of the tailoring business, how to select fabrics and all. But you’ll have the added duty of analysing situations or planning the logistics of escape routes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’m interested, Mister Lee.”

“Good.” He handed her a card and motioned to the maitre who brought a telephone to the table and plugged in the line. “Yes, Joseph, could you see if Arthur is available?” He listened for a moment. “Arthur, the redoubtable Miss Rhys is interested. When might you be available to meet her?”

After another pause, he said, “That will be fine, Arthur. I’ll leave you to… oh, of course. I’ll be back at the office by four.”

He hung up and said, “You have a meeting on Monday afternoon at the shop. One pip emma. It’s a good time to come. I know Arthur will offer us lunch.”

She smiled at his conspiratorial tone. “I should be able to arrange that.”

He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “George will ask to see you Monday morning. Give him my card. You’ll have the rest of the day off.”

“I’ve never met him, you know. George is an utter mystery to me.”

“He’s too dull to be a mystery. He’s an excellent analyst. Did well in the field, too, but he isn’t exactly scintillating.”

For the rest of the meal, they discussed theater and art. Just before the end of the meal, the telephone on the table rang. It was George’s secretary fixing an appointment with Myfanwy for nine on the following Monday. Myfanwy looked at Mister Lee and he said, “The train’s begun to leave the station, my dear. And this time, you’re on it.”

***   
Arthur proved to be a dynamic man in his early fifties. He interviewed her with Mister Lee, whom he called Merlin, present: a silent observer to the process. Over the Potage St. Germain, she answered questions about her background. Over the sole meuniere, Arthur outlined the structure and mission of Kingsman, and over the wild strawberries and cream, he formally offered her the job. She accepted before coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her six month review.

Her first six months were fascinating. At her request, Merlin put her in analysis. She reported to Morgan, and, with the assistance of her translators, quickly became an expert in Asian affairs from Hong Kong to Burma. During this time she went to Hong Kong, South Korea, South Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Burma. Myfanwy learned to grade silks for ties, pocket squares, and shirting and even acquired a basic knowledge of cottons and summer weight wools in addition. 

Merlin arranged a six month interview with her, once again over tea at the Dorchester.

“Why tea?” she asked as he guided her to the table.

“It’s civilized. It gets us away from the office which allows a wider range of emotional emphasis and opinions while circumscribing our references to specific incidents. It’s a good combination for getting honest answers, I find.”

Myfanwy nodded. “And do you follow up with everyone at six months?”

“No. But I do my best to have a second interview with everyone who joins us at some point before his or her first anniversary with the firm.” He ordered for them both. Once the waiter left, he asked, “How’s analysis?”

She thought for a moment. “I think I’m good at it.”

“Morgan agrees, and I’ve read some of your analyses either before briefing the table or out of curiosity. I agree as well. Do you enjoy it?”

She was happy that the tea had arrived because it let her formulate her answer. “It’s far better than the work I was doing previously. The travel thrilled me, and I hope I’ll have the chance to do more.”

Merlin gave her a penetrating look. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“No, I didn’t. You were right. I’m bored. I can’t see what impact my work has on the organization or on anything really. The Americans are entrenched in Southeast Asia. South Korea will be a valuable economic ally within twenty years as will Singapore, but the rest… I love using my brain, and this job certainly demands that.”

“It does. Not everyone could accomplish what you have in so little time. Your writing is both incisive and thoughtful. But I thought it might bore you. Would you be willing to spend six months in Nimue’s area?”

“Doing what?”

Merlin smiled. “Learning about research and development. You’ll need that because when I move you to logistics afterward, you’ll have a good idea of both the type of manufacturing and assembly we need. That’s crucial to getting the best quality, hiding the supply routes, and making certain the agents have what they need in time.”

“What else do you think I’ll need?”

He said, “Once you get into logistics, I’ll expect you to train as a driver -- even though it’s doubtful you’ll ever go into the field yourself -- and as a mechanic.”

Myfanwy said, “Give me the mechanic’s test tomorrow. I bet I’ll pass.”

“Really?”

“Mum kept flying after the war, so she taught me basic plane repairs and Da still runs the local auto mechanic’s shop.”

“Then come in grubby on Monday and we’ll give you that test. Do you fly?”

“No. I wouldn’t mind learning, but Mum just didn’t have the patience. Boats and cars are about it, and nothing too fancy with them.”

“We don’t need fancy,” he said. “Anyone at headquarters is allowed to use the facilities here. I’d like you to learn how to shoot with our standard handgun and a sniper’s rifle. When we move you to logistics, you’ll know what’s possible with all of those things. I’m not certain what the Lady will assign you to, but if you hate it, don’t be afraid to come talk to me. Too many people are.”

Myfanwy smiled. “You’re well over six feet and look like you could wither with a look, of course people are afraid to come talk to you.”

Merlin said, “You haven’t been.”

She thought for a moment and said, “No, I haven’t. How odd.”

“How refreshing. Last bit of practicality and then we can enjoy our tea. You’re officially permanent with Kingsman, now, and your pay packet and benefits will reflect that beginning next month.”

“Benefits?”

“I believe you’re interested in moving out of your current living situation.”

She nodded. “I’m tired of running into strange men at the breakfast table.”

“One of the benefits we offer is mortgage assistance.”

Myfanwy laughed quietly. “I’m certain they wouldn’t approve of my plan. I want to live at Regent’s Park canal.”

“I’m certain they will. Anyone who doesn’t need to worry about the roof over her head is going to be a better employee.”

“I… I’ll look into it. Thank you, Merlin.”

“Myfanwy, you’re a valuable asset to Kingsman. If you weren’t, Morgan would have let you know that we’d exercised our option for no fault release sometime during the past six months. Now then, research and development means you won’t get much travel for the next six months, but as soon as you move to logistics, you’re going to learn about cottons. Turkey, Egypt, Kenya to a lesser extent, Lebanon, India. We’ll figure out reasons for you to go to South America, too. You’ll need to know major cities, transportation routes for goods -- which in a pinch may end up as transportation for an agent -- and all the little things that make Kingsman an international operation. With your talent and your memory, I think you may end up as the Lady one day. Perhaps even Merlin, though you’ll have to meet a physical fitness standard for that.”

She blinked at him. “Do you really think so?”

“It’s hard to know, but if you do as well as I think you will, yes.”

“I’ll do my best to live up to your faith in me.”


	3. The Seventies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Myfanwy's life at Kingsman.

Two years later, after Merlin announced his retirement, Myfanwy asked _him_ to tea at Fortnum and Masons. 

“Don’t worry, Mister Lee, I made certain they had your blend.” 

He smiled warmly at her. “You’ve done very well in research and development. Are you finally ready to move to logistics?”

She smiled right back at him. “Past ready. I wanted to make certain I had everything in place with the roof over my head, as you put it.”

“Good. I need a base in London for the next six months. May I rent your narrowboat?”

“But…”

Mister Lee said, “I know who the new Merlin will be. He’s a bit rough around the edges and isn’t likely to listen to you until you have at least six months in the department under your belt. I’ve spoken to Arthur about you. We agree that having you learn the business outside the country is probably best. So, we need an outpost in Lagos. Your friend Paul will be visiting Lagos for an extended period of time and needs a nanny for his young children. That position will be your cover.”

Myfanwy examined him closely. “What is Paul’s relationship to Kingsman?”

“He’s a client. He’s asked a few questions that lead us to believe he’s peripherally aware of our activities, but Paul is careful not to _know_.”

“What do you need?”

“That’s my girl,” he said. “The children are two and four. Their mother will be with Paul most of the time, so they’re planning to hire three nannies. Day, Night, and Fill-in. That last one’s you. You’ll cover the other women’s days or evenings off. If asked, you’ll say that you’re being paid half what they are -- Paul won’t pay you a penny, you’ll get your regular Kingsman salary -- but you decided to come along because…”

“Because I’ve never been to Africa. Thirty is narrowing on the horizon and this feels like my last chance at adventure. I don’t think I should say Paul’s paying me. I know the girls well enough that Mary calls me ‘auntie,’ so... They needed a third person to cover occasionally, and that’s how I’m repaying my airfare and lodging. I saved up for a year of backpacking around the world, and this means my funds go further.”

Mister Lee nodded. “Much better. You’re right that will cause less resentment. Figure out what you want to use as your main occupation while you’re there. In the meantime, you’ll be creating a small logistics center, in case we need it there.”

“How long will Paul be there?”

“The most we can expect is three months, but probably much less. I don’t think he knows what he’s getting into. I’m going to have the doctors start you on your jabs now and Morgan already knows you’ll need some training in Hausa and Swahili for later. Not too much. Once Paul and his   
compatriots leave Lagos, you’ll go on to several other West African countries, beginning with Dakkar in Senegal, to set up the same type of logistics center before flying to Kenya and setting up the same thing there with a little time running operations. Finally, you’ll go to Zanzibar and then down to Jo’burg and Capetown.”

“And then?”

“By then, I’ll have transitioned out of Kingsman. If Arthur listens to me, then you’ll be given a choice as to whether you want to continue setting up logistics points of varying sizes, in which case you’ll get that world tour, or come back and take up a slightly higher position under the Lady. He’s impressed with your record, by the way, and I’ll be assigning you over to him on Monday.”

Myfanwy poured more tea and began to eat her final tea sandwich. “What would you recommend?”

“Honestly, if you’re good at the set up, and not too homesick, continue to do it. Most of the places we’ll send you have some degree of danger, but they’re not so bad that we’re hesitant to send a woman there.”

She nodded to herself. “I want more weapons training while I’m getting poked with unspeakable diseases.”

Mister Lee said, “I planned on it, and a further advanced driving course. There’s one item I hesitate to add.”

“Please, it’s better I know.”

“It is,” he said. “You need to get yourself physically fit. I don’t anticipate any major problems, but I want you to be able to get out of trouble. That means running. I’d like it if you did the obstacle course, but that’s less important. Swimming and first aid training appropriate to the climate should also be on your radar. You’ll only have about three months to prepare before the visas clear and Paul and family head to Nigeria.”

“I hate running, but I’d hate dying more. Can I start training on Monday?”

“Absolutely, my dear,” Mister Lee said. “If you continue on your round the world jaunt, when you finally return, you’ll be coming back to a promotion in logistics, and you’ll have been in place long enough under the new Merlin’s rule that he can’t get rid of you unless you seriously blot your copybook.”

“Why are you doing this for me, Merlin?”

He chuckled. “You’re the only person hired in the last five years who isn’t intimidated by me. It’s refreshing, and it’s how I know you’ll be brilliant at this.”

Myfanwy blushed. “Thank you, Mister Lee.”

***  
She extended her time in the field twice. Two years after beginning in Lagos, she finally returned to headquarters. The new Lady of the Lake welcomed her and immediately put her in charge of coordinating supplies to the outposts she and others had set up.

The new Merlin was less than happy that a girl, though since she was about to turn thirty, that word was seeming increasingly inappropriate, would be at her level in the organization. He remonstrated with Arthur, but Arthur had her back. She wondered briefly if Mister Lee was still working his magic somewhere in the background.

More intriguing to her and the current Lady -- though he insisted she call him Rob rather than by his codename -- were some of the current ideas coming out of Stanford University, or at least from their drop outs. The idea that computers would soon be small enough for university departments to have their own rather than having to share time on the supercomputers was novel. She requested a meeting with Rob to see about learning programming as being able to track and locate equipment quickly and efficiently would be a great help to logistics. He concurred and set up a meeting with Merlin who vetoed the idea immediately.

A month later Rob called her over and said, “Wear your best suit tomorrow, dear girl, nothing too masculine, and for God’s sakes no trousers. Arthur hates seeing women in trousers -- or worse those gaucho things that are so popular in America -- and we need you to stay on his good side.”

Myfanwy blinked twice and said, “I take it I’m supposed to attend a meeting at the shop?”

“Exactly. It’s taken me some time to get my ducks in a row, but Morgan and Nimue concurred that our current Merlin isn’t taking the long view on these smaller computers. I know you did your usual thorough job of research before bringing the idea to me. Have the information at your fingertips. If that means literally, bring a briefcase, but it’s a breakfast meeting, so it would be best if you can work from memory.”

She grinned at him. “I usually do, sir.”

“Yes, you really are a clever girl. Eight tomorrow morning. Don’t be late. Don’t ask for jam on your toast as Arthur only allows marmalade at breakfast.”

“I may be a plain Welsh girl, Rob, but I do know how to eat with a knife and fork.”

He said, “It’s just there’s a great deal riding on this. It brings out my mother hen.”

“Well then, does Arthur object to a solid jacket with plaids for women?”

“I’ve never heard him do so.”

“Then I promise, I’ll look quite respectable tomorrow. Now get thee gone before your wife forgets she’s married. You’ve been pulling long hours for over a month.”

“I have indeed. And it’s better that I’m rested tomorrow. Good night, dear girl.”

***   
At 7:55 the following morning, she walked into the dining room at the shop. The footmen had just finished setting up the breakfast buffet and Nimue was talking to Rob at the table. Myfanwy greeted them and was pleased that Rob gave a small nod at her clothing. Her skirt and waistcoat were a red plaid with navy as it’s main contrast. The length was the current inch below the knee, but she’d asked the tailors to make it a straight skirt rather than the A-line which was so popular. Her white blouse had been tied as a jabot, and she wore a lapis stick pin to hold it in place. Her earrings were gold and the jacket was navy. Her make-up was quiet, and her red hair was in a purdey bob. It was a classic look that she hoped would sway a traditionalist like Arthur.

When Arthur came in, with Morgan trailing closely behind him, they went to the chafing dishes to select their breakfasts. They’d already begun discussing the front pages of The Times, The Telegraph, and The Guardian when Merlin arrived. Myfanwy thought she could see censure in Arthur’s eyes and thanked whatever power it was that made certain her commute went without a hitch this most important of mornings.

It was Merlin who finally brought up the topic as they were having toast with their second cups of tea. 

“Honestly, Arthur, I’ve already told them no.”

“So, they said,” Arthur answered. “But you know that if all of the department heads think it should be reexamined, they’re allowed to bring it to me. So, Ms Rhys, you have convinced the Lady and he’s convinced Morgan and Nimue, convince me.”

Myfanwy finished chewing and took a sip of her tea to calm herself. “Right now, getting some of these small computers might not be a stellar idea. However, from my research, they’re going to be viable within four years, possibly sooner. We’ve considered computers before, and, correct me if I’m wrong, the only reason we vetoed it is buying something with the amount of power and memory we would need would make us conspicuous. None of us thinks having a more efficient way to track our inventory, our project development, or our current intelligence is a bad thing. The only reason it was rejected was the fact that a Cray is so rare everyone knows who has one and the large IBM machines -- the really good ones -- are nearly as obvious. Imagine we’re a university. Instead of having one computer with multiple terminals and designated hours for really big projects, every professor has his or her own. Not only is it less conspicuous, it’s more efficient.”

Her presentation went on for another ten minutes, and Myfanwy had to hand it to Arthur, he knew how to listen without interruption. When she finally said, “Thank you, sir,” Arthur smiled.

“It seems that actually creating the programs we need would be a partial stumbling block, and, if this is going to do any real good, we’ll need to have these computers at each of our remote sites and figure out a way to get them to share the information. Does that seem fair?”

“Eminently, sir.” He pinched his lip as he thought. 

The door opened, and Tristan swaggered in and then stopped. “My apologies Arthur, I only intended to get some breakfast, I didn’t know there was a meeting.”

“Feel free to sit in. This will affect the whole organization eventually. Ms Rhys and the Witches seem to think that looking into the smaller computers coming out of California might be a good idea. Do you have an opinion?”

“I think they’d add a great deal to our efficiency, if they were ready, but my understanding is they are two or three years away from having something robust commercially available.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Myfanwy. “Completely true, sir, that’s why I suggested both a small reconnaissance mission to find out what they’re doing -- Nimue’s shop might be able to come up with something proprietary sooner than we can buy it -- and that we begin training programmers now in the Structured Query Language or Lisp or the one that’s just called C.” 

“So our only outlay would be the intensive classes for the programmers.”

“Who we’ll never need, Arthur,” Merlin said. “I’m certain we can all think of better ways to spend our money than sending some of the staff back to school to learn something utterly useless to us. For heaven’s sake, sending them to get art history degrees would at least let them carry on more interesting conversations at the dinner table.”

Tristan cocked his head and said, “With your permission, Arthur, I think teaching several of our staff computer languages is an excellent idea. We’re finding more of the information we’re trying to acquire is being stored that way either as a supplement to or instead of a paper filing system.”

“Does that mean you think someone from the table should learn these languages?”

“Possibly, Arthur. I think having the staff learn them first will ensure that whoever’s at the table only needs to learn the most common ones.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that makes sense.”

Merlin was shaking his head. “You don’t mean you’re considering this? I don’t know what this scheming dyke is up to, but she has the Lady completely bamboozled.”

The men in the room bristled, but Myfanwy just laughed. “Why should who I sleep with have anything to do with my ideas? Let it stand or fall on its merits. And before you decide that was an admission, the fact is, it’s none of your damned business one way or the other.”

“Well said.” Tristan nodded at her. 

Arthur said, “I think it’s fair to give this a try. I want one person in each department trained in programming with an option to send another three through the program when the first group is finished. And at least two people from Nimue’s department should learn about how the things are constructed. The engineering behind miniaturization might be good for us whether or not we ever buy these computers.”

***   
Within eighteen months, Myfanwy and two other members of the staff were fully certified programmers. By the time they’d completed the program, Merlin had blown himself up in a tragic research and development accident, at least that’s what the Witches said.


End file.
